


Nothing to See Here

by randombubblegum



Category: Over 9000 (Band), The Blue Poptarts (Band), Waterparks (Band)
Genre: (by accident), But also, Car Sex, Coming In Pants, Denial of Feelings, Dirty Talk, Dry Humping, Facials, Falling In Love, First Time, Fluff and Smut, Friends With Benefits, Frottage, Getting Together, Hand Jobs, Louisiana Hotel fic baby!!!, M/M, Mutual Pining, Oral Sex, Play Fighting, RPF, Shameless Smut, Sharing a Bed, and i am sorry for nothing, but like barely, it's pretty tame so i don't think any trigger warnings apply, unless you blacklist for that gross way a car smells after you have sex in it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-09
Updated: 2020-08-09
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:35:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25800694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/randombubblegum/pseuds/randombubblegum
Summary: Awsten will take Otto's hands on him any way he can get them. He doesn't think too hard about why.
Relationships: Awsten Knight/Otto Wood
Comments: 6
Kudos: 53





	Nothing to See Here

**Author's Note:**

> There's not enough Awtto fic! Seriously! So I was spurred into writing my own.
> 
> This fic is based on the [Louisiana Hotel](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wWbeN_xp6RI) video, filmed way back when Awsten and Otto were in Over 9000 together, making it technically pre-Waterparks. This was supposed to be a short pwp, just because that video is so wildly horny, but I apparently have chronic brain worms and it ballooned into an 11k monster before I could stop it. Oops?
> 
> A million and one thanks to [Dee](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Deanon) and [Kat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/corvidConstellation/) for betaing. <3
> 
> Note: As a matter of course, I would archive-lock an explicit RPF fic like this one, but this is Waterparks and this fandom is a total nightmare, so I'm leaving it public. IF YOU KNOW ANYONE MENTIONED IN THIS FIC IN REAL LIFE, OR, GOD FORBID, ARE AWSTEN KNIGHT, DO NOT READ IT!!! I mean this!!
> 
> If that all sounds cool to you, let's begin.

Awsten is not having a crisis.

Seriously, he's _not_. He’s not even having a gay freakout. He’s just… he’s a little stirred up, at the moment. Or, or shaken, not stirred, whatever they say in the Bond movies. No, wait, shaken sounds worse. Ugh.

Okay, so what happened is this.

* * *

They’re spending the night at this crazy castle-turned-casino-turned-hotel somewhere in Louisiana, since it’s the closest hotel to the gig they booked at Jawn’s friend’s cousin’s birthday party. Or maybe it was Jawn’s cousin’s friend’s birthday party? Anyway, it’s _fucking_ awesome; it’s got all the fancy hotel shit like massages you can order and bathrobes in the room and those tiny soaps that smell like citrus and spicy herbs. He and Jawn and Otto have been bouncing off the walls since they got here, running up and down the hallways, plundering the gift shop, filming in the lobby (Jawn), stripping down to their underwear and prancing around in just a robe (Awsten), and eating four entire packs of gummy bears (Otto).

All this is to say, tensions and spirits are high. As soon as they’re in the room for the night, Awsten knows he’s gonna start being a rambunctious jackass for laughs, and Jawn’s gonna film it so they can all achieve glory on YouTube.

So that’s how he ends up play-wrestling with Otto on the bed they’re sharing.

It’s not like this isn’t something they’ve done tons of times before. Awsten play-fights with all of his friends, it’s just what they _do_. It starts out the same way it always does, at least at first.

“Noo-oo,” moans Otto wearily from where he’s laying on his side, Awsten propped up on his shoulder.

“ _Your luscious locks of haaaaair_ ,” Awsten crows in his most obnoxious voice, the one that never fails to start shit just based on how inherently _punchable_ it is. He drags his fingers through Otto’s curls, slapping the lamp on the bedside table back on. The digital clock reads 3:18. No sleep tonight; that’s a promise and a threat.

“ _Stoppp_ ,” Otto half-laughs, half groans from underneath Awsten’s elbows. “Awsten, I’m gonna ask you nicely just this once.”

“You’ve already asked me nicely,” Awsten says with truly annoying flourish, peeling the covers off of Otto’s body to get better access. “Take off these blankets and let me see allllll your hair~” he croons, wrapping his hands around Otto’s shoulders as Otto laughs beneath him. He easily dodges Otto’s hand when it tries to catch and still his own.

“Awsten,” Otto laughs with all the fatigue of someone who has spent the day driving to fucking Louisiana, “would you please--”

“ _\--your long, luscious locks--_ ”

“--Get off me--”

“ _\--of haaaair~_ ”

“--mmkay, that’s it,” Otto says with eerie calm, all hints of sleepiness gone. He turns over and moves to flip Awsten onto his back. Game on.

“Noo, don’t!” Awsten gasps as Otto rolls him, suddenly full of energy. “No, NO!” Awsten yelps as Otto gets him on his back. He offers only token resistance. This is all part of the plan.

“This is for your own good!” Otto yells, grin in his voice, shoving all the pillows he can grab onto Awsten. Otto straddles him while he’s distracted by the pillow in his face, smushing Awsten’s head between pillow and mattress. “You made me do this! You made me!”

Awsten is heady with glee. He knows he did; provoking Otto into fighting him back is the best part of the game.

Otto gets him pinned on his side, arms crossed awkwardly over each other and pillow blocking his vision. He can hear Jawn’s hooting laughter from where he’s filming from the other bed.

He catches a glimpse of Otto’s face, ruddy-cheeked and grinning, before the pillow comes back down over his eyes. He feels Otto’s head thunk next to his as he holds him down with his body, arms crossed to press the pillow over Awsten’s face. 

“G’t offa mhh,” he laughs into the pillow, swatting his arms out blindly. He can’t manage to reach much of Otto from this position, but he _can_ get at his side, where he knows Otto’s ticklish. Bingo.

Otto howls and thrashes when Awsten strokes from his ribs to dig his fingers into his hip and grabs Awsten’s hand, slamming it back onto the mattress. Tactical error; Awsten has another hand available and he intends to put it to good use.

He goes for Otto’s upper thigh and squeezes, betting on him being ticklish here too. He’s right, and it pays off; Otto shifts his hips to try and dislodge him, unintentionally rutting against Awsten’s leg. Awsten’s half-hard at this point, but he figures he’s turned far enough onto his side and there’s enough pillow padding between him and Otto that he’s safe for now. Popping a semi during play-fighting is whatever, just par for the course, and he’s not about to let it distract him from his goal here: victory. Otto shifts against Awsten again, but Awsten just uses the motion to grab more of Otto’s thigh and double down on his attack.

“Stop that!” Otto yelps between giggles and huffs of breath, whacking the pillow into Awsten’s face with his free hand. “What happened to keeping it above the belt?”

“We never agreed on that!” Awsten fires back, grinning madly as he contorts his arm to pet and grab at Otto’s ass, to rub down the back of his thigh. The way Otto is pushing the pillow against his nose and breathing heavily in his ear is giving him one hell of a headrush. He subtly angles his hips further away.

He tries to push back against the hand Otto’s got immobilized, managing to get it off the mattress while Otto’s distracted by his groping.

“Oh no you don’t,” Otto grits out, readjusting his grip to Awsten’s wrist and slamming his hand back down to the mattress. Otto’s fingers slide into the spaces between Awsten’s and squeeze hard. Awsten pants into the pillow.

Several things happen in quick succession.

The first is that Awsten moves his arm at the exact moment Otto moves his hips, causing his hand to slide right across Otto’s belly and land between his thighs.

The second is that this causes Otto to reflexively clamp his legs shut, trapping Awsten’s hand snugly against his crotch.

The third is that Awsten realizes Otto is really, really hard.

Time slows to a crawl. Awsten goes from semi-territory to full-on boner so fast it makes him dizzy.

Otto, probably realizing his mistake, tries to course-correct by shifting his knees apart, but in doing so only manages to bring his weight down harder onto Awsten’s hand. One hand clasped in Otto’s, one hand cupping his dick through his jeans, Awsten is maybe harder than he has ever been in his _life_. Head spinning, in a move he will later blame entirely on pillow-induced hypoxia, he does the only thing his punch-drunk brain can come up with in that moment. He crooks his fingers and squeezes.

Otto’s hips roll into his hand.

The chaos of the moment that follows brings Awsten’s brain back online real damn fast.

Otto full-body jerks out of his grip, grabbing the pillow with both hands and thrashing Awsten with it so hard he sees stars. Awsten gets his arms up reflexively to protect his face. Shifting back into the context of their play-fight quickly, he’s primed and ready as always to avoid Weirdness and to appear unshakable. 

“Your--” his voice comes out all reedy and thin; he catches his breath and tries again, “long, luscious--”

“NOOO!” Otto roars, right on cue. He pulls the pillow back just enough for Awsten to catch a glimpse of his face. He’s red down to his shirt collar, but still grinning, thank god. Now that they’re back on steady footing, Awsten grins back, eager to continue the script. 

He struggles out from the cage of Otto’s arms and rears up, flinging an arm across his back. “Locks of luscious hair!” Awsten chokes out, pawing at his head again.

“That’s it! I’m sleeping in the tub!” Otto gasps, flying off the bed and heading for the bathroom. A forfeit; Awsten’s victory. He lets himself drop back onto his elbows, panting.

Awsten takes a quick inventory; he’s still harder than he’s ever been after a play-fight, and his heart is pounding. Holy hell. Jawn’s snickering voice startles the living daylights out of him from the other bed.

“A word from the victor, Awsten?”

Awsten pulls his knees to his chest and flips onto his side as fast as a survival reflex. Shit, shit, _shit_ , he forgot Jawn was filming that whole thing. Oh god, he’s never gonna live it down if Jawn saw all that, or got it on camera. He turns quickly but casually onto his stomach, hoping his boner isn’t obvious. He realizes Jawn isn’t ragging on him, though, so he figures all the pillows and blankets must have blocked the camera’s view of the… uh, action. Bro Code would never let something that hilariously scandalous go un-commented-on.

Propping his chest up on the pillow in front of him, he shoots a cocky grin to the camera that he hopes hides how off-balance he feels. “Oh, darling~” he calls towards the closed bathroom door. Otto doesn’t answer, but Jawn’s bellowing laugh makes him think he’s probably in the clear. God, his pulse is still racing, adrenaline kicking through his bloodstream.

“Long, luscious locks…” he jokes, practically on autopilot. He drops his head to the pillow and catches his breath.

He feels something on his tongue and reaches in with his fingers, pulling out a single curly hair.

“Hey Otto, I tasted one of your hairs, dude,” Awsten calls out. There’s no answer.

Otto’s been silent in the bathroom for a while at this point. “Do you think he’s dead?” Jawn giggles.

Awsten laughs back unsteadily. He wonders if Otto’s okay. The shower cuts on and he flops back into the pillows, relieved. 

\---

Otto drops back into the bed they’re sharing (Jawn’s a huge priss who always insists he needs his own) after his shower, grumbling as he swats the light off. He’s out within seconds, as Otto always is.

Awsten lies next to him in the dark, staring at the ceiling, wide awake.

He’s still keyed up, still… _turned on_ isn’t the right word, maybe, but hot and itchy under his skin somehow. He can’t quite settle down. His mind keeps wandering back to… Otto’s body holding him down, Otto’s bright red cheeks. The flex of Otto’s thigh underneath his hand. Otto’s fingers squeezing between his own.

Awsten reaches up to drag his hands down his face with a silent groan. _What the fuck’s gotten into you?_ he scolds himself. _You’ve never felt this way after wrestling with Jawn. You’ve play-fought with Otto before this, even, and you were fine._ He thinks of the way Otto had laughed with his arms around him. He thinks of how Otto’s dick had felt in his palm, hot like a fever even through the denim.

Awsten’s face is on fire.

He’s not about to take care of this with Otto asleep right next to him, so he slithers out of bed and slinks to the bathroom, closing the door as silently as he can.

Leaning against the counter, he tries to take steadying breaths. He’s just going to rub one out, stop thinking about this, and go the fuck to sleep. He pulls himself out of his briefs and starts at a punishing pace. He does not look at himself in the mirror.

Awsten tries not to think of anything specific while he gets off. It only kind of works.

He sleeps fitfully that night.

* * *

So _that_ is what leaves Awsten twitchy and weird, skin too tight, the next day. The lead-in to his not-crisis. The antecedent to what is _not_ his gay freakout.

Otto doesn’t act weird or different or anything, so Awsten tries not to either. He’s nervous when they wake up in the morning, but Otto just stretches awake and blinks at him with bleary eyes, same as always.

“...‘time is it?” Otto mumbles.

“Half past eight,” Awsten replies. He laughs when Otto groans and shuts his eyes again. Same as always.

They play in the early afternoon that day, driving the 15 minutes it takes to get to the house where the party is. It’s a backyard rager type of thing, which Awsten doesn’t _love_ , but hey, a gig’s a gig. 

He’s grateful for the chance to perform right now; it always takes his mind off whatever he’s got going on, making it impossible for him to think about anything but the music. He lets himself slip into it, keeping time with Otto’s driving rhythm behind him.

They finish their set to raucous cheering (drunk people are the best), which is a nice ego boost, and stick around just long enough as to be polite. Spirits are high on the way back to the hotel. Awsten still feels out of sorts, but the distress he was feeling earlier is replaced with a sense of… resolve. He catches Otto’s eye in the rearview mirror as Jawn jabbers excitedly about how well they went over with the crowd.

Otto smiles at him, the way he always does.

Awsten smiles back.

\---

Awsten fully admits he may have been thinking with his dick when he came up with this plan.

“I’m getting a massage before we leave, I don’t even care,” Jawn announces as they stroll back into the lobby. “Plus, just 'cause we checked out doesn’t mean we can’t use the pool, right? It had a _waterfall_ , dude.”

“Uh-huh,” Awsten mumbles distractedly. “Listen, I packed my swimsuit in my bag. Why don’t you go get your massage now, and we’ll meet at the pool when you’re done?”

Jawn shrugs. “Sure, that sounds good.”

Awsten turns to Otto. “You’ll come with me to grab it, won’t you?” He hopes he sounds casual instead of scheming.

He must, because Otto just nods. “Yeah, no problem. I don’t really trust you to remember where you parked, anyway. Not with your sense of direction,” he jokes.

“Hey!” Awsten yelps as Jawns laughs at him. Not that Otto doesn’t have a point.

\---

“So, here’s the thing,” Awsten says, clambering onto the seat and pulling the door shut behind him. The lock clicks shut under his palm. He brings his legs up beneath him and turns sideways to look at Otto.

“What’s the thing?” Otto asks, bemused, when Awsten doesn’t continue.

“The thing,” Awsten says, “is that we need to jerk off together. Right now.”

Otto stills completely, face schooled into an unreadable expression. Awsten waits, heart in his throat, while he tries to maintain a cocky grin.

“...Why?” asks Otto, finally.

“Because, clearly, what happened last night, uh, like, indicates that we have UST. And if we don’t resolve it, y’know, like mature adults, it could be bad. It could make things weird between us. Uh, if we don’t take care of it, y’know. And I would hate that and be really sad so we have to jerk off together, y’know, like straight bros do all the time.” Awsten waves his hand around to illustrate his point. “Just, totally heterosexual, best buds stuff. Just taking care of it so it goes away and doesn’t make things uncomfortable later? Just the old--” He makes a jacking off motion with his gesturing hand; Otto’s eyes follow the movement, then jerk quickly back to Awsten’s face.

“You think we have… unresolved sexual tension?” Otto says, sounding incredulous. His expression is still carefully blank, but spots of color have appeared high on the planes of his cheeks.

“Yes! Uh, I mean, maybe?” Awsten feels uncomfortably pinned, like he’s answering a trick question. “I dunno, I just think we need to rub one out together, dude. Y’know, the oooole five finger shuffle? The ole choke the chicken. The ole--” Otto bursts out laughing and Awsten isn’t far behind-- “The ole fiddling the flesh flute--” _Ew!_ Otto groans-- “The ole cranking the love pump. The--”

“Okay! Okay, stop, christ,” Otto laughs, tension broken. Awsten shoots him an obnoxious grin.

Otto meets his eyes, expression going neutral. “Okay,” he says again.

“Okay?” Awsten asks, sounding a little more hopeful than he meant to. Otto nods, closing his eyes.

“How are we gonna… oh,” Otto says, trailing off when Awsten starts to climb into his lap.

“Like this… hang on,” Awsten says, bracketing Otto’s thighs with his knees and settling onto his lap, not quite sitting back. Feeling bold, he takes Otto’s hands and places them on his hips, moving his own to rest on Otto’s shoulders.

“How’s that?” he asks lowly, hoping he sounds vaguely seductive and not like an idiot. From this angle, he can’t see Otto’s eyes; his head is tilted down, and his curly hair blocks the top half of his face from view. Awsten starts to feel a little apprehensive. He really wants to do this, and he thinks it’ll be fun, but what if it ends up making things weird? What if--

Otto tugs Awsten’s hips towards him, and they come flush together quickly, an unintentional squawk escaping Awsten.

“Good with me if it’s good with you,” Otto says, glancing up. His face is ruddy red, but he’s got a small smile on his face. “That’s not all you’ve got, is it?” he asks, joking challenge in his voice.

Awsten feels his bravado come back in a rush. Sweeping his bangs out of his eyes, he grins. “Definitely not,” he says, rolling his hips down against Otto’s. Otto drops his head and tightens his grip on Awsten’s hips, taking a quick breath through his nose. Spurred by the reaction, Awsten spreads his knees further apart, sinking down to press closer. He rolls his hips into Otto’s again, slower this time, grinning cheekily. It’s starting to feel good, so he does it again, and then again, rocking his whole body forward with the motion.

Awsten gasps out loud when Otto moves his hand from his hip to the curve of his ass. The other slides down his side to grip his thigh, thumb on the inseam of his jeans. Awsten looks down and realizes his legs are trembling. He’s startled to notice that he’s already clearly hard; part of him thinks he should be embarrassed for being so obviously eager, but all he really feels is keyed up, and maybe a little nervy. Plus, whatever, he’s 18, and Otto’s hot; it’s not his fault. His hips jump when Otto strokes his thumb firmly along the inside of his thigh.

“This okay?” Otto murmurs.

“Yeah,” Awsten says, breathier than he meant to. “Yeah, you can… yeah.” He’s not really sure what he’s giving Otto permission to do. He hopes it comes across as a blanket statement.

He’s still shocked into making a little sound when the hand on his ass gives a squeeze. 

Embarrassed, he brings his hand down to pull Otto’s shirt up to his chest. He figures if that’s fair game, appreciating Otto’s abs while they do this must be too. Not that he’s really sure who’s setting the rules, if either of them are.

“What-- Seriously?” Otto says. He still moves forward off the seat to make the task easier, though.

“ _Yes_ seriously, c’mon, I wanna see,” Awsten wheedles, tucking the hem of the t-shirt up. He runs his hands down Otto’s toned stomach. It’s warm. Otto shivers beneath him.

Awsten slides his thumbs to press into the defined vee of Otto’s hip bones, making Otto groan. Whether it’s from exasperation or something else, Awsten isn’t sure. He feels dizzy.

He can see the line of Otto’s cock in his jeans just below the heel of his hand. He hesitates--this is the first time he’s touching another guy’s dick with intent--but only for a second. He cups it in his left hand, running his palm along it. Just like last time, it’s warm under his fingers.

Otto hisses, moving both hands to grip Awsten’s thighs.

Awsten’s head is swimming. He gives Otto a tentative squeeze and gasps when Otto’s fingers dig into his legs in response. It feels like all the blood in his body is either in his cheeks or his dick. He’s so hard against the seam of his own jeans it’s starting to hurt.

“Can...” Awsten pants. He’s not sure what he wants to ask, or what he wants to ask Otto to do. “Can we…?” he trails off again. He wants to touch Otto. He wants Otto to touch him, badly.

Otto just nods, seeming to understand, and moves to undo his own belt. Awsten takes the hint and pops the button on his skinny jeans, sighing in relief when he gets the zipper open and shimmies them down his hips to rest under his ass. There’s a small spot of precome already darkening the pale yellow cotton of his briefs.

When he looks up, Otto has gotten his jeans open too, bulge in his black boxer briefs on display. Awsten feels his mouth go dry.

“Can I?” he asks, fingers tugging at the open waistband of Otto’s jeans, fluttering restlessly near Otto’s crotch. All of a sudden, he wants this more than anything in the world.

“Yeah, go for-- _it_ ,” Otto bites off on an airy groan as Awsten grips him through his underwear. He runs his thumb back and forth over the outline of the head, curious. Otto’s hands find purchase on his shoulders, but Awsten barely notices.

His hips kick when Awsten runs his fingertips down the shaft, over the cotton. He feels nails dig into his shoulders. “Come on,” Otto whispers.

Heart beating a mile a minute, Awsten glances up at Otto’s face, but it’s tilted down and he can’t meet Otto’s eyes through his hair. Awsten sweeps his own bangs to the side again, always a nervous habit.

Slowly, skittishly, he hooks his fingers into the elastic of the waistband, sitting up on his heels and tugging when Otto lifts his hips slightly. Otto’s cock bounces free and rests against his stomach.

Awsten’s heart is about to hammer out of his chest, he thinks.

Otto’s thicker than he is, slightly longer, and darker at the head. There’s a small smear of shiny precome near his belly button.

Awsten reaches out a shaking hand to grip him. It’s hot like a brand on his palm. Otto jerks beneath him, but stays silent.

The grip is unusual, backwards from how it feels to touch himself, just barely the wrong size. He feels off-balance and a little silly, but he’ll be damned if he lets it show. He rubs his thumb around the head to gather moisture and starts stroking in an approximation of what he would do to himself. His bead bracelets clatter together and he wishes, belatedly, that he had taken them off.

“Is this okay?” Awsten asks, trying to keep his voice steady. He’s suddenly feeling awfully self-conscious; he’s never touched someone else’s dick before and if he’s gotten this far just to be bad at it it’s going to be a huge blow to his ego. He absentmindedly traces the vein running along the underside with his thumb. He wishes he could see Otto’s face.

“It’s fine,” Otto breathes. Awsten is gratified to hear the strain in his voice. “You can-- uh, tighter, if you want,” Otto grits out. Awsten squeezes experimentally on the upstroke and Otto’s cock twitches in his hand, earning him a quiet groan.

Feeling bolder, Awsten lets go for a second to spit in his hand before bringing it back, easing the slide. He twists his wrist when he gets to the head, the way he likes to do to himself when he gets close, and Otto’s shoulders curl in on themselves, stomach muscles tensing.

“Was that good?” Awsten asks, his breathing heavy as he does it again. Otto’s thighs flex beneath him as he lets out a small sound, almost as if he’s in pain. Otto just nods, moving his hands down to grip Awsten’s upper arms. Awsten keeps up the pace and feels a slick drop of precome slide over his knuckles. He feels dazed with how hot it is to watch Otto react like this, make noises like this, because of _Awsten_ , because of what Awsten’s doing.

Without really processing what he’s doing, Awsten fumbles around with his left hand until he’s got Otto’s hand clenched in his own. Otto looks up on a gasp, raising his head so Awsten can finally see his face. Otto looks more overwhelmed than Awsten’s ever seen him, red all the way down his neck and mouth open, breathing hard.

“Awsten,” he says, softly, meeting his eyes. Awsten’s heart stutters. He squeezes Otto’s hand once, unconsciously, his other hand keeping its pace. He can’t look away.

“Awsten,” Otto says again, more urgently this time. As Awsten watches, his eyes shut and his brows draw together, body going tense as he grunts and drops his head. Awsten feels his body buck beneath him and realizes belatedly that Otto’s coming.

Otto groans as Awsten strokes him through it on autopilot and feels like he might actually black out he’s so turned on. He feels come hit his wrist, drip down his fingers, and thinks _holy shit, holy shit, holy shit_.

“Okay, ahh, okay,” Otto whispers, tapping at Awsten’s wrist and twitching away from his touch. He lets go and Otto drops his head back on the seat, trying to catch his breath. Awsten can’t tear his eyes away from the come splattered on Otto’s belly, muscles still rippling with aftershocks.

Awsten doesn’t mean to rush him, but if he doesn’t get touched immediately he’s going to explode.

“Otto,” he pleads, trying not to whine. Otto lifts his head and his eyes go wide, making Awsten realize he’s kinda humping his thigh a little bit.

“Yeah, yeah, how do you want me to, ah…” Otto says, tucking himself back in and hovering his hand near Awsten’s stomach uncertainly. Awsten doesn’t want to think about logistics, and he’s so wound up that he seriously thinks he could come with any friction at all right now, so he just grabs Otto’s wrist with his clean hand and presses his hand to his cock over the briefs. It feels _so good_ , finally friction and pressure when Otto curls his fingers under his balls and oh shit, Awsten is going to come.

“I’m gonna come,” he pants, dropping his head onto Otto’s shoulder and grinding his hips desperately into his palm. “I’m gonna, I’m, I’m gonna,” he gasps with each roll of his hips. He feels Otto’s other arm come up around his back, holding him so he doesn’t slide off of his lap and fall. His hand finds purchase on the back of Awsten’s neck.

“You gonna come for me?” Otto asks, so airy and quiet Awsten would almost think he imagined it if not for the way it makes him come harder than he ever has before _in his life_. He careens over the edge, crying out with his face pressed into the side of Otto’s neck, hips rutting helplessly as he bites down on a drawn-out whine. It feels like it lasts forever, tingling through his whole body from his scalp to the tips of his toes as he gasps, Otto palming him through it. 

He slumps like his strings have been cut when it’s over, sliding off of Otto’s lap to drop down onto the seat beside him. Still breathing heavily, he curls up in the corner between door and seat back, noticing for the first time that the windows have fogged up completely.

He looks at Otto.

Otto is already looking back at him.

Awsten’s heart is pounding in his chest.

“So…” he starts. He has no idea where he’s going with it.

“…So?” Otto parrots expectantly.

Awsten tilts his head back and closes his eyes, trying to breathe through his nose. His underwear feels… gross. And cold. He pulls his jeans back up over his ass, but leaves them unbuttoned. He realizes he still has come on his hand. Otto’s come. From jerking Otto off. His head swims. He grabs an old shirt off the floor and wipes his hand with it robotically, then hands it to Otto to clean up with.

“That was good. Right?” Awsten tries. “I think it was… Like, I think it was what we needed to do, for sure.” He feels vulnerable and suspects that it’s showing on his face, which he hates. “Was it… don’t you think so?” He swipes his bangs to the side, even though they weren’t really in the way.

Otto finishes wiping off his stomach and does his jeans back up. Meeting Awsten’s eyes again, he offers a reassuring smile.

“I thought it was good. I don’t know about us needing to do it, but… yeah, it was good,” Otto says like he’s choosing his words carefully. He’s not acting cagey or anything, and Awsten tries to force himself to relax.

“Yeah,” he agrees, summoning a grin. He tucks his sneakers up under himself and re-zips his pants, then hugs his knees to his chest. He glances at Otto through his bangs and tries out a smile. Otto smiles back at him, seeming sincere. He feels his smile widen.

“Well, we should probably grab our swimsuits and get to the pool before Jawn gets back, right?” Awsten says, leaning over the seat to fish for his backpack. 

\---

They make their way to the pool area, heading into the changing stalls to switch into their swim trunks. Awsten has the decidedly undignified task of cleaning himself off with just his gross, sticky briefs, which he writes off as a lost cause. Grimacing, he wraps them in a dirty t-shirt and pushes them to the bottom of his backpack.

Jawn comes out to meet them as they splish around the waterfall area, Awsten jumping from the rocks and getting yelled at by a lifeguard.

“How was your massage?” Otto asks politely.

“Sooo good,” Jawn groans theatrically, stretching one arm behind his head, then the other. “I didn’t realize how tense my back was until she was digging out the knots with her thumb, man.”

“The stressful life of a photographer,” Otto nods at the same time that Awsten hoots “That’s what she said!” Jawn splashes him while his mouth is open, the bitch.

“Have you guys been here the whole time? Otto’s hair isn’t even wet,” Jawn points out quizzically.

Awsten sinks underwater up to his nose.

Otto falters, waving his hand around. “Oh, y’know, uh… It’s so thick it takes forever to dry, plus I didn’t want it to smell like chlorine on the drive home,” he bluffs.

Jawn looks suspicious, but doesn’t push it. “Hmm, I mean, I guess it is a pretty long drive.” He turns an accusatory gaze on Awsten. “What do you look so shifty for?” he says in that knowing way only a childhood friend can.

Awsten spits a stream of pool water at him and doesn’t answer.

\---

They drove separately, Otto with Jawn and Awsten with their gear, so Awsten is alone on the drive back.

He turns the stereo up as loud as it’ll go, favorite Fall Out Boy record blaring from the speakers, in an attempt to avoid the thoughts he knows will creep in unbidden in the solitude. His fingers tap restlessly where they lay on his knee.

It doesn’t work. His car still smells like sex.

Gripping the steering wheel, his traitorous mind offers him an uninvited play-by-play; the breathy way Otto had said his name, the feeling of his hand on the back of Awsten’s neck. The way Otto had asked him…

“Aaugh,” he groans loudly into the empty car. Carding a hand through his hair, he reaches over and fiddles mindlessly with the volume knob, knowing it’s already maxed out.

The thing is, he doesn’t regret it, not even a little bit. Getting off with Otto was the hottest thing he’s ever done.

He just wasn’t prepared to feel so much like… like they just had sex.

When Awsten gets home, he drops into bed and sleeps like the dead. He doesn’t dream about anything.

* * *

He can’t shake the lingering fear that this is going to make things weird between them from the back of his mind. Like, he has no evidence to believe that it will, but he keeps _worrying_ about it. A couple days pass without word from Otto, which is completely, totally normal behavior for him, but it niggles at Awsten the whole time.

He thinks about inviting Otto out for Chipotle as he brushes his teeth on Saturday morning. He isn’t sure why, but he thinks he’ll feel better if he can see Otto in person, reassured to hear him laugh at Awsten’s jokes again.

As it turns out, he doesn’t have to. The doorbell rings as he’s getting dressed, and his mom calls up the stairs that a friend is here to see him. Assuming it’s Jawn (who has been showing up at Awsten’s house unannounced since they were thirteen), he pulls his shirt over his head as he pads down the stairs.

“Since when do _you_ ring the doorbell, jackass?” he jokes, muffled in the fabric.

“...Should I not have?” comes the confused reply.

Awsten stops in his tracks. Yanking the collar down, he realizes the person standing in the open doorway is not Jawn, but Otto.

“Oh!” he blinks and smooths his hair down. “Hi! Sorry, I thought you were Jawn.” He notices Otto’s carrying his skateboard.

“Oh, is Jawn coming over today?” Otto asks.

“Huh? Oh, no, I don’t think so, anyway. What are you up to?” Awsten asks, gesturing for Otto to come inside.

“I was gonna head to the skatepark in Bear Creek today. Do you wanna come with me?” Otto asks, following Awsten upstairs and into his room.

Otto has never invited him out of his own volition like this; it’s almost always them meeting up for band practice and/or Awsten wheedling him into doing something goofy. He feels his heart soar.

“Hell yeah! I haven’t skated since I was like fourteen, though, I’m probably going to fall and break my arm if I try anything crazy.” Awsten stoops to dig through his closet. “I think my board’s probably still in here somewhere.” He really _hasn’t_ skated since he was in middle school, not after he started playing guitar. He was never very good at it, mostly owing to the fact that he got tired of falling down and hurting himself over and over again. Honestly though, Otto could have invited him to, like, go to the DMV or wait in line at the post office and Awsten still probably would have said yes.

He hears the creak as Otto sits down on his bed, rolling his skateboard back and forth with his feet. Miraculously, Awsten manages to unearth his board and helmet, buried behind an old Halloween costume and a broken amp.

“Hah, I like the Blink stickers,” Otto chuckles. Awsten grins back.

\---

Awsten’s mom hands them a cooler bag full of Gatorades from the fridge on their way out, telling them to be careful and have a good time. 

“Sick, there’s the blue ones in here,” Awsten notes as he rifles around inside. Hopping into Otto’s passenger seat, he immediately starts flipping through the CD case he knows he keeps in the glove compartment. “Can we listen to the Blink self-titled?”

“Whatever happened ‘to driver picks the music’?” Otto jokes as he closes the door. “Yeah, that’s fine.”

It’s not until they’re pulling off of Awsten’s street, singing along to _Feeling This_ at the top of their lungs, that Awsten remembers he was worried about feeling weird at all.

\---

After an hour and a half of busting his ass on the concrete trying to relearn to ollie, Awsten decides he has had _quite_ enough, thank you _very much_.

“Fuuuuck this,” he groans loudly, taking a seat on his board and unsnapping his helmet. “This is bullshit. And fuck you too, you cool-ass showoff,” he calls to Otto, who has just landed a perfect kickflip. Otto only laughs.

“Aw c’mon, you almost had it that last time,” Otto says generously, skating over to where Awsten’s sitting with the cooler bag.

“Yeah, before I landed right on my hip. I’m gonna have, like, ass bruises tomorrow. My fucking legs hurt, dude,” Awsten grouses, opening the bag to paw around. “You want a Gatorade?”

“Yeah, I’ll take a red one,” Otto replies, wiping his forehead with the bottom of his shirt. The muscles on his stomach and arms glisten with sweat.

“You like the red ones?” Awsten asks, trying not to stare.

“I mean, I don’t really have a preference. Plus, you like the blue ones, so,” Otto says, reaching out for the bottle. The tips of their fingers brush, just for a second. 

Awsten’s not really sure what to say to that. He uncaps a bottle for himself and hides his grin by taking a sip.

“You looked really cool out there,” Awsten says, scuffing his sneaker against the cement.

“You think?” Otto looks at him quizzically. “I can only do a handful of tricks.”

“I mean, you’re not gonna be getting any high scores on _Tony Hawk Underground 2_ or whatever, but I could never pull that stuff off. It’s impressive to me, at least,” Awsten says.

Otto rubs at his cheek, a small smile blooming on his face. “Well, thanks,” he demurs. He reaches a hand out towards Awsten. “Why don’t you try it a couple more times? I bet you can at least get an ollie in before we go,” Otto says.

Awsten rolls his eyes but takes Otto’s hand, letting himself get pulled up. “Oww,” he hisses, realizing how badly his elbow hurts for the first time. He glances down and realizes he’s skinned it all to hell.

“Oh shit, you good?” Otto asks with a look of concern. “Did your mom put any band-aids in the bag?”

“Fuck you!” Awsten yelps, eyes wide with mock betrayal. “What am I, thirteen?”

Otto cracks up. “I didn’t mean it like that!”

Awsten rolls his eyes and glances down at the scrape. It’s not bleeding or anything, and it doesn’t really hurt so much as it stings, now that the skin’s not being tugged on. An idea strikes him, and he grins mischievously.

“Kiss it better?” he asks coquettishly, fluttering his eyelashes goofily at Otto. Otto freezes, expression unsure, and Awsten laughs and lowers his arm, content to end the joke.

He doesn’t expect Otto to take hold of his elbow and press his lips gently to the scrape, eyes slipping closed.

Awsten’s breath catches in his chest.

He feels his face heat up when Otto lets go, pulling back to look at him. “That better?” he asks.

He doesn’t wait for an answer as he turns and skates back towards the vert ramp, leaving Awsten speechless, for once, in his wake.

\---

“FUCK this!” Awsten yells after what he has decided will be his last attempt at an ollie. “No more, fuck skateboarding, I’m done for the day,” he gripes as Otto laughs from the bottom of the bowl.

“I’ll be done in a bit,” Otto assures him, hopping up to drop in again.

“It’s whatever, you’re fine. Do a 360!” Awsten hollers, plopping down on the deck above to watch. Otto flips him off as he wobbles through his drop. Awsten chuckles and tucks his knees to his chest.

Otto’s not _good_ good at skateboarding, but he’s a hell of a lot better than Awsten will ever be. It’s impressive to take in the ease with which he holds his body on the board and how natural his balance seems. Awsten’s content to watch him. He cheers obnoxiously when Otto looks over at him and does a pop shove-it.

The phrase _skatepark girlfriend_ flits through his mind. He blinks. _Where the hell did that come from?_ He shakes his head and watches the way the setting orange sunlight catches in Otto’s curls.

* * *

They end up going to Chipotle anyway on the way home.

(Otto starts, “Do you wanna go to Ch--”

“--potle?!” Awsten finishes, eyes sparkling. “ _Yes_ , motherfucker, I thought you’d never ask.”)

Chipotle turns into a movie marathon in Awsten’s living room, turns into a water gun fight in the street, turns into a round of Battleship, turns into _two_ rounds of Battleship, since Awsten lost the first one, turns into playing with Awsten’s Ouija board. (They summon a ghost that claims to be named “Fartknocker”, and died at the ripe old age of 69. Otto has his doubts about the supernatural.)

By the time they bother to check the clock, it’s gotten so late that the only natural course of action is to invite Otto to spend the night.

“I have an extra toothbrush you can use,” Awsten says, leading Otto upstairs. “Plus you can sleep in one of my pajama shirts, I think we’re probably about the same size.”

Otto seems pleased. “That’d be great, thanks. And thanks for letting me stay over.”

“Oh, it’s no problem,” Awsten says automatically. “People usually end up sleeping over here anyway, when we all hang out. You can take the shower first, there’s towels in the linen closet.”

While Otto’s in the shower, Awsten puts fresh sheets on the top bunk, tucking the comforter in neatly. He feels a little giddy to have Otto sleep over, which is ridiculous and weird, since they shared a bed in a hotel room not even a week ago. Something about having Otto in his space specifically feels new and exciting.

That thought gives him pause. Why should it feel like that? Friends sleep over at his house all the time; Jawn’s probably averaging one night a week here over the last five years. He chalks it up to Otto being one of his newer friends, or maybe that Otto isn’t one to want to hang out for two days straight, typically. Awsten backs down off the ladder, unsettled.

Hearing the water stop, he scrambles to sit on the bottom bunk, feigning nonchalance. He looks up when Otto comes in and tries not to let his mouth drop.

Awsten wasn’t wrong about them being the same size, but he failed to take into consideration their… differences in physique. His shirt fits Otto, all right, but it stretches over his defined pecs and shoulder muscles in a way that is. Distracting. Why is it distracting? Awsten turns his gaze to the ceiling and tries to get a grip.

“Am I on top?” comes Otto’s voice.

“ _What_ ,” Awsten squeaks, goggling at Otto.

Otto turns red. “Bunk! Top bunk. Um.”

Awsten scrubs at his eyes so he doesn’t burst into hysterics right here and now.

“Yes. Sorry. Yes. The top bunk is yours. I’m going to take a shower,” he drones, still covering his face. He scampers out of the room, pajamas in hand.

\---

When he gets back after his shower, Otto has taken his old stuffed frog up to the top bunk with him and is looking it over curiously.

“Oh, you found Frog,” Awsten says, toweling off his hair.

Otto jumps, but relaxes when Awsten waves him off. He smiles at the plush in his hands. “He’s cute. Is his name Frog?”

Awsten shrugs, climbing cross-legged onto the part of his bed that juts out from the top bunk in an L-shape. “I don’t remember. I’ve had him since I was a baby. I know he had a name at one point, but I can’t remember it now. It feels wrong to give him a new one. You know?”

Otto nods. “I get it,” he says, even though Awsten suspects that what he just said made no sense. Otto holds out the plush.

Awsten reaches up to take it. “Did you have a stuffed animal you kept as a kid?” he asks.

Otto shrugs. “I don’t think so? Or if I did I guess I can’t remember. I was really into trains, though,” he says sheepishly.

Awsten grins. “That’s in-character somehow.” He shuffles around, getting comfortable. “Do you need anything before I hit the light? Water?”

Otto shakes his head. “I’m good. Thank you though.”

“Alright,” Awsten says. He flicks the lamp on his nightstand off, and the room falls into darkness.

“...’Night, Otto,” he says quietly, suddenly shy.

“Goodnight, Awsten,” comes the reply. Awsten is out within seconds.

\---

Awsten wakes up slowly, pulled from a hazy dream he’s already starting to forget. He turns onto his back and stretches languidly, blinking against the warm sunlight pouring in from the window. He’s rubbing his stomach, idly thinking about taking care of the morning wood he’s sporting, before he remembers Otto slept over and sits up with a jolt.

He looks up at the top bunk. There’s no movement, but he can hear Otto’s slow breathing. Quietly, even though he knows Otto’s a heavy sleeper, he stands up in bed and leans over the railing.

Otto’s face is relaxed, mouth slightly open. He looks peaceful.

Awsten smiles. Then he yells “GOOD MORNING OTTO” as loud as he fucking can.

Otto doesn’t react but to blearily slit his eyes open. He closes them again for a few seconds while Awsten watches him intently. “Oh, cool,” he croaks out, clearly only half awake.

Awsten grins. “Did you sleep okay?”

“Mm-hm,” Otto mumbles, already falling back asleep.

“No, wait! Get up so we can eat breakfast. My mom always makes blueberry pancakes on Sundays, I know there’s still some in the fridge,” Awsten bargains.

Otto’s eyes snap properly open at that.

They head downstairs and microwave their bounty, Awsten digging syrup out of the pantry.

“Do you have to hurry home this morning?” Awsten asks as they eat. He swirls the last chunk of pancake around his plate, sopping up syrup. “If you don’t have any plans, you can hang out here. I have Mario Kart with the steering wheel controller things.”

Otto grins. “Sure, yeah, that sounds like fun. I don’t have to be anywhere today. You’re on.”

\---

After his sixth time getting lapped, Awsten slams his controller down against the bed in frustration.

“Stop! You’re fucking cheating!” he shouts indignantly as Otto laughs beside him.

“I’m not! Using the banana peels isn’t cheating, you’re just dumb enough to hit them,” Otto says, holding his controller above his head when Awsten bumps his shoulder. On the screen, the race ends, Awsten’s character holding its head in dismay while Otto’s cheers.

“Fuck off! There’s no way in hell you’d beat me six times in a row if you weren’t cheating, let me see that controller,” Awsten says, grabbing for the Wiimote in Otto’s hand. “I bet you fucking modded it when I wasn’t looking.”

“Oh fuck you, just accept that you suck at this game and preserve some dignity,” Otto grins, leaning further away and blocking Awsten with a forearm.

Awsten lunges across Otto’s body, knee on his leg and halfway on his lap as he swipes at the controller just out of reach. “If you weren’t cheating then you’d just give it to me!” he exclaims. “See! Clear evidence of tampering!” He plants his open palm on Otto’s face and shoves his head back, renewing his upward stretch.

“Okay, enough,” Otto says fake-seriously, tossing the controller behind him on the bed. He grabs Awsten’s wrist and wraps his other arm around his torso, then pushes until he loses his balance, falling face down across Otto’s lap. When Awsten starts to writhe, Otto digs an elbow into his back and shifts his hand to the back of his head, pushing his face into the mattress.

“Are you gonna behave?” Otto asks, sternly.

Awsten goes completely still.

He decides to push his luck, squirming and trying to get his arms underneath himself for leverage. Otto just digs his elbow in harder, right between Awsten’s shoulder blades, and Awsten gasps in pain. His shoulders reflexively pull back, spine arching. Otto keeps him pinned.

In a move of desperation, Awsten gets his knees beneath him and shoves his body sideways into Otto, knocking them both over. He lands on Otto’s chest, who lets out a _whoof_ as the wind is knocked out of him, and immediately starts scrambling to get the upper hand.

“Ah hah!” he crows, straddling Otto and sitting on his stomach. He clamps his knees tighter when he feels Otto shift, trying to maintain his advantage. He presses his hands to Otto’s shoulders, keeping them flat against the mattress.

Otto smiles sweetly at him. Then he grabs Awsten's wrists and surges up, flipping him easily and hurling him onto his back. Before Awsten can get his wits about him to retaliate, Otto is slamming both wrists down to the mattress, grip like iron, and straddling his hips.

“ _Ah hah_ ,” Otto mocks, amused.

Awsten twists and thrashes, trying to break Otto’s hold, but Otto just clamps his thighs around Awsten’s hips and rides out his bucking. Otto’s biceps flex as he holds Awsten down, defined muscles standing in stark relief as Awsten jerks uselessly to one side, then the other. He tries to pull a leg up, but Otto just holds on tighter with his knees.

Panting, Awsten realizes that he’s well and truly caught. His heart hammers in his chest.

“Give up?” Otto asks, clearly delighted.

Awsten considers his options. He arrives at the conclusion that he has none left.

He goes for the final, newest trick in his playbook.

Meeting Otto’s eyes, he rolls his whole body smoothly, grinding his hard dick into Otto’s upper thigh.

Otto looks shocked for a second, but quickly recovers, leaning harder over Awsten’s wrists. He rocks down, pressing his own erection into the crease of Awsten’s hip. Awsten can’t help but to groan softly, head tilted back.

Otto’s not trying to laugh it off, and he doesn’t seem embarrassed this time. Awsten feels anticipation bubble up in his chest at the thought that this might not have been a one-off arrangement after all.

“Do you want to? Again?” he asks, breathless, looking up at Otto hopefully. He keeps a careful eye on Otto’s expression, trying to gauge his response. 

Otto’s brows draw together, but he doesn’t move away. “Do you mean… get off together?” he asks. At Awsten’s nod, he continues, “What about your family?”

“They’re at church, they won’t be back for hours. We have the house to ourselves until the afternoon,” Awsten says. He tries to discreetly angle his hips up for more contact.

Otto looks thoughtful for just a moment, then his face softens. “I mean, okay, sure. If you do,” he says finally.

“I do,” Awsten grins immediately. He can’t believe his luck. “Get off of me so we can get our shirts off.”

Awsten pushes at Otto’s hands with his wrists, a little surprised when they don’t budge. He presses again, a small shiver running through him when Otto’s grip just tightens, not letting him up.

“Otto, c’mon,” he wheedles unsteadily, feeling a little thrill despite himself.

Otto finally relents, moving off of Awsten to kneel on the bed, pulling his shirt over his head. Awsten stares shamelessly at the flex of his abs and arm muscles as he stretches. He quickly shucks his own shirt and starts on his zipper. “Jeans too,” he says. He half expects Otto to argue, but he just slides his own pants down his legs, tossing them off to the side and sitting in just his underwear. Awsten’s tongue sticks to the roof of his mouth.

He gets his own pants off, finally, and scoots to sit next to Otto. “Can I touch?” he asks, hand coming up towards Otto’s stomach. At Otto’s confused nod, he presses both hands to Otto’s abs, smoothing them out toward his sides, feeling the warm muscle beneath them. He moves them up to Otto’s pecs, tracing over the soft skin. Otto is silent, watching.

“Jeez, I can’t believe all you eat is chocolate and you get to look like this,” Awsten says, voice wavering despite himself. Otto laughs softly; Awsten feels it under his hands. Goosebumps rise on his skin.

Awsten brushes his hands over Otto’s biceps, then moves them back down to the tuck of Otto’s waist, stroking at his hip bones. Otto presses minutely into his touch.

Awsten takes a deep breath.

“Can I try something?” he asks.

“Yeah, of course,” comes Otto’s voice, slightly croaky.

Awsten tugs at Otto, indicating he should scoot forward to the edge of the bed. Once he’s settled there, legs dangling from the side, Awsten sinks to his knees in front of him.

“I’ve never done this before, so don’t laugh if I suck at it, okay,” he says, heart in his throat and face on fire.

“Oh shit,” Otto gasps when Awsten tugs at his waistband. His hand comes down to cover Awsten’s, but doesn’t pull it away.

“Awsten, you don’t have to,” Otto says, voice shaky. Awsten looks up, trying to see if Otto’s going to stop him. Otto just looks down at him, eyes wide, face red.

Awsten ducks his head again.

“I know, but. I want to,” he says, sounding way more casual than he feels.

Otto pulls his hand back, spreading his legs to give Awsten better access.

Hands shaking, Awsten works Otto’s boxer briefs down, pulling his cock out. He gives it a few strokes to buy himself time to gather his nerve. It’s much less startling seeing Otto’s dick the second time around than it was the first, which gives him a little peace of mind as it hardens in his hand. A small bead of precome forms at the head.

Awsten takes a deep breath. _It’s now or never_ , he thinks, and leans in.

He licks tentatively across the head and feels Otto’s thighs flex, hears him gasp. It doesn’t taste bad the way he worried it would; just salty and maybe a little musky. He does it again, using the flat of his tongue this time, sliding it around the crown and feeling the ridge. It’s not so nerve-wracking, easing into it like this. He holds Otto’s cock near the base and slides his tongue from root to tip. He wonders if Otto’s ever gotten blown before. He wonders how he’ll stack up, if he has. He swipes his bangs nervously to the side with his free hand.

Otto’s breathing has picked up, loud in the quiet room, but Awsten doesn’t quite have the nerve to look up at him just yet. Instead he tries pushing his mouth to the crown, pumping with his hand, and feels precome slick his lips. Otto makes a high, reedy sound, nails digging audibly into the comforter at his sides. Encouraged, Awsten parts his lips and lets the head slide in to rest on his tongue.

“Awsten, shit,” Otto breathes, voice strained. Awsten takes a little more in, flickering his tongue along the underside, at the same time he looks up at Otto through his bangs.

Otto looks--undone. 

When he meets Awsten’s eyes, he groans, eyes wide and looking desperate in a way Awsten has never seen him. He’s holding himself taught, the lines of his body tense, hips jutted forward. When Awsten gives an experimental bob of his head, still holding his gaze, Otto gives a small cry and shuts his eyes, shivering.

Awsten won’t lie and say he’s never thought about sucking cock. He has; of course he has. But he always expected it to feel like something… dirty, or demeaning, like the way they treat it in porn. Nothing about this feels demeaning; Otto’s dick resting heavily on his tongue, the salty but mild taste of precome, Otto above him making soft little noises. It’s… hot. It’s really hot, getting Otto to react like this, even without having any finesse in his technique.

Awsten starts to bob his head in earnest, stroking in time with his hand. Otto’s hips snap forward, startling Awsten, but Otto just bites out, “Sorry, I’m sorry,” and pets his hair in apology.

He looks up at Otto again, pulling off but still using his hand. “You can put your hands in my hair. Uh, if you want,” he says. He goes back down, trying to work Otto a little deeper this time.

He feels Otto’s hand come up to cup the side of his jaw, just for a moment, then move to tangle in his hair. Awsten has a split second of panic, worried he should have specified not to pull too hard, but Otto’s fingers only card through the strands, restless but gentle. It feels… unexpectedly tender. Awsten accidentally bobs down too far, gagging and pulling off to cough.

“Are you okay?” Otto pants, eyes full of concern even as sweat beads at his temples.

Awsten nods and wipes at his mouth, embarrassed. He lets his bangs fall to cover his eyes.

“What you’re doing already is… really good,” Otto says between huffs of breath. He moves his hand to brush Awsten’s hair away from his face, tucking what he can behind his ear. He squirms a little under Awsten’s hands, but doesn’t say anything to rush him.

Awsten smiles to himself and goes back down, pressing a quick kiss to the head that makes Otto gasp before he starts to suck. He’s gotten used to the motion a little more, twisting his wrist on the upstroke as he slides down to meet his hand. Otto’s leaking a steady drip of precome, mixing with spit to speed the glide of Awsten’s strokes. The wet, slick noises it makes, along with Otto’s groans and breathy gasps above him, are making Awsten’s head go hazy. He presses the heel of his hand against his own cock to take the edge off the ache.

“Okay, fuck, okay, I’m gonna--” Otto says urgently, tapping at Awsten’s head. Awsten pulls back to suckle at the head as he works Otto with his hand, thinking he’ll try and swallow. The first drop of come hits his tongue, and it’s bitter. He panics, changing his mind at the last second, and pulls off right as Otto’s body folds in and he tips over the edge with a bitten-off shout.

It feels like it happens in slow motion.

A hot stripe of come lands across his nose, and the next hits his chin. Awsten keeps working his hand dumbly even as he flinches, Otto shaking through his orgasm with his hand clenched in Awsten’s hair. The next spurt hits his collarbone, drips a little down his bare chest. Awsten can’t move, can’t think. It feels like his brain has lost signal.

Otto gasps for air, catching and stilling Awsten’s wrist. He leans back, opening his eyes, and freezes when he takes in the scene before him.

“Oh my god! Oh god, I am so fucking sorry, Awsten, ohh shit,” Otto breathes, horror evident in his voice. He slides off the bed to kneel next to Awsten, swiping at the mess with his fingers. When that just smears it around, he fumbles for his discarded shirt to use instead, rubbing at Awsten gently. “Are you okay? Did it get in your eyes?” Otto asks, sounding guilty. He’s as red as Awsten’s ever seen him, flushed down to his chest.

Awsten thunks his head against Otto’s shoulder, slipping his hand into his own underwear and starting to stroke. “It’s fine, ’s fine, ’s really fine,” he slurs, teetering on the edge already. He’s never thought about this happening to him. He never thought he’d be so _into it_ , christ.

“Wait, wait, let me-- I want to--” Otto stutters, grabbing Awsten’s wrist and pulling it away. At Awsten’s displeased groan, he continues, “Can I touch you this time? I didn’t get to, before.”

“Sure, fine, just can we _please_ ,” Awsten grouses, following the motion when Otto tugs him back up to the bed. 

Otto settles him against the headboard, propped up among the pillows, and slips between his legs. He pulls Awsten’s briefs down to mid-thigh and gets a hand around him finally, _finally_. Awsten can’t help but moan, arching into the touch. He’s already slick, has been leaking precome since they started, and Otto’s hand moves smooth and tight and hot and _perfect_ over his dick, and he’s so close, and he’s not gonna last.

“Kiss me,” he gasps, back arching like a bowstring as Otto twists on the upstroke. “Kiss me, kiss m--”

Otto seals his lips over Awsten’s, pulls him close, and Awsten comes totally apart.

He cries out, almost a sob against Otto’s mouth, whole body taut and twitching as his orgasm rolls through him. He feels it everywhere, spreading through every muscle, a long electric pulse that rocks him in waves. Otto keeps kissing him through it, lips moving soft and slow against his own as Awsten whines into his mouth.

Otto lets go and Awsten drops all at once, totally limp. All he can do is pant for a moment.

Otto reaches over to grab tissues from the nightstand, gently cleaning Awsten up before wiping his own hand. He flops down next to Awsten on the pillows, close enough Awsten can feel the heat radiating from him.

Awsten feels amazing. He basks in the afterglow for a moment, boneless.

Then he comes back to himself in a rush.

He pulls his underwear back up. “Uh,” he starts, “So…” he trails off. His usual bluster and bravado is completely deserting him and all he can think about is the lingering sensation of Otto’s lips. He throws an arm over his eyes, doesn’t say anything for a while. He knows he’s shown his hand, realizes now what that hand even _was_ , and is trying to figure out how to explain it away.

The “platonic helping hand” excuse worked fine for accidental boners. He suspects it will work less well when your friend has just kissed you sweetly through an orgasm.

It’s Otto who speaks first.

“So, we should probably talk about that,” he says, muffled into the pillow he’s holding.

Awsten turns on his side, hair on the back of his neck rising. _Act normal_ , he reminds himself, _and you can still sail out of this one_. “Talk about what?” he asks innocently, mustering a cheeky smile. It feels like it sits wrong on his face.

Otto’s brows draw together. “The-- kiss, Awsten. All of that, come on.”

Awsten is breaking out in a cold sweat. He tries out a laugh that sounds nothing like a laugh. “Listen, sometimes, in the heat of the moment, you just, y’know, when you’re getting off together--” 

“No, stop with that. You know perfectly well that whatever ‘getting off together’ straight guys do, it doesn’t look like that. And it doesn’t look like what we did in your car, either,” Otto continues, sounding irritated.

Awsten is a deer in the headlights of an oncoming train. He… didn’t expect Otto to call him out on it, not so bluntly. He doesn’t have a response. He’s starting to panic. Not only has he shown his hand, he’s dropped the cards all over the floor, and Otto is looking at every one. And Otto does not sound particularly pleased with what he’s found.

Awsten feels his eyes start to prickle, god damn it. “I think you already know,” he whispers, voice thick.

To his surprise, Otto’s eyes go wide, and he scoots closer, reaching for Awsten. “Hey, hey, no, I didn’t mean it like… What I’m trying to say is, I don’t want it to be just us getting off together. I liked what we did. I _liked_ the kiss. I…” He trails off and takes Awsten’s hand, looking down at it and then up to meet Awsten’s eyes. “I like you. And… I think--I _hope_ \--it’s mutual?” Otto’s face is open, hopeful.

_Oh._

Awsten blinks. Then blinks some more. “Yes,” he blurts. “ _Yes_ , I--I like you. Too,” he stumbles, barely processing that this is happening.

Otto’s face lights up, smile lines deep. Awsten’s heart skips a beat.

“Well alright,” Otto says softly. He turns his hand over so they’re palm-to-palm, then threads his fingers through Awsten’s.

“Alright,” Awsten repeats, giddy with both relief and revelation. “Alright alright. What’s cooler than being cool? Alright alright alright,” he starts to sing, giggling.

“Is that your idea of pillow talk?” Otto laughs, pulling him in closer by their joined hands. “ _Hey Ya_ by OutKast?”

“I don’t know, listen, postcoital endorphins work in mysterious ways, plus I just found out you like me, I’m really going through it emotionally these past five minutes,” Awsten says, scooting close enough to drape an arm around Otto, “plus also maybe that is my idea of pillow talk.”

Otto’s eyes soften. “I’ll take it,” he says. “Can I kiss you again?” he asks, nudging their foreheads together.

Instead of answering, Awsten leans in to press their lips together, careful so their noses don’t bump. It’s sweet, and slow, Otto exhaling through his nose as their mouths slide together. He lets go of their hands to tangle his own in the back of Awsten’s hair, cradling his skull. Awsten rests his hand on Otto’s shoulder, thumb on his collarbone. It’s warm.

Awsten pulls away to catch his breath, chest full to bursting. “Wow,” he whispers, knowing he sounds like a total girl but not caring.

Otto huffs a laugh. “Wow,” he agrees.

* * *

The crowd in front of them is small but lively, probably owing to the fact that 95% of it is made up of their friends.

They’re playing a basement show at Jawn’s friend’s brother’s bandmate’s house. Or maybe it was Jawn’s friend’s bandmate’s brother’s house? Anyway, they’re second in the three-band lineup and the energy is good, plus they were tight at rehearsal this afternoon, so Awsten’s feeling awesome.

“You ready?” Jawn asks. “Let’s do this thing.”

Awsten turns around to catch Otto’s eye behind the drum kit.

Otto smiles at him, the way he always does.

Awsten smiles back.

They launch into their song.

-END-

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading and sticking around till the end. I hope you enjoyed :+)
> 
> If you ever want to yell about Awtto, I'm on [tumblr](https://randombubblegum.tumblr.com/), waiting by the metaphorical phone.


End file.
